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Unless someones training there shouldn't be too much noise emanating from the pits nearby, though Sixshot pays it no notice as he looks around one of the medbay areas as he escorts Blast Off there. Occasionally he nudges the mech but not too harshly as he says, "Not trying to rush you, but don't need you falling unconscious or choosing to bail instead of getting help. Just understand how deep your in now, though may not be the point of no return." Glancing around he ties to find least one mechanic that won't try to fleece him like Knock Out. Blast Off gets lead down into the pits... and it feels like he's descending into more than just a layer of ground. The shuttleformer glances about occasionally, taking in the sights, smells, and the sounds. It smells dank and gritty... something uncouth and quite uncivilized. But Blast Off was a Combaticon... no,' is' a Combaticon, and he's seen sights such as these before. Nor is he in much shape to truly dwell on these sesnes- right now he's concentrating on putting one limping foot in front of the other. He's a shot-up mess. Ceramic tiles still litter the ground after he walks, his arm is at an odd angle, and he's scorched and smells as bad as this place does. And he HATES that. He huffs slightly every time Sixshot nudges him, metal plates rising up like a bristling cat. "I'm going *zkkt* as fast as I can..." He takes a few steps and then stops, reaching his hand towards Sixshot once more. "I need my weapon. If I had wanted to *crackle* use it before, I would have. Give *zkkt* it back." He tries to sound confident.... though his voice falters and glitches. Working in the medical area of the pits is not his idea of paradise, but it is a job that needs to be done, and therefore, it is a job that needs to be done well. Hook and his Constructicon associates are the architects behind the gladiator pits themselves, demonstrating their prowess and skill to Megatron in a bid to assist him in his plans. The other Constructicons are busying themselves with creative projects, maintenance and as their name suggests, construction, while Hook is training low-caste and disposable rebels the fine arts of surgery. There will be a need for medics in the coming storm. "Put him on the third table from the door, I will attend to him shortly," Hook curtly replies, disliking being pulled away from his present project. With a disdainful sigh he claps his hands loudly. "Students! There is an opportunity to learn before you. If you wish to become anything even -close- to worthwhile, you will join me. Immediately." He lets them bring over his tools. "I know you hate it, Hook, but least you seem to be among the few willing to do it," Sixshot says as he looks to Constructicon while leading Blast Off to the table. Still holding the blaster he says, "For now its best off with me. Cause right now as you don't trust me, I don't trust you. So just lay back, try to relax. That way theres no trouble." Blast Off is led to a medical bay, where he stops momentarily to stare at the rather... green mech standing before him. His violet optics narrow as he takes in the room and the other people inside. What is this place anyway? A wing elevon twitches nervously once more, again sounding quite off from the norm. Too noisy, and he glances down with a scowl under his faceplate as if the sound betrayed him. Then he's again nudged towards a table. The shuttleformer turns his head to Sixshot, engines grumbling... and sputtering out as the mechanisms come to life- then suddenly die. He has to restart that system entirely... this is NOT good. "Relax? What part about any of this *zkkt* is going to make me relax? Who ARE these people?" He remains standing, giving his best aloof and defiant stance. Or it would be, if half his form wasn't falling apart all about him. "Do you or do you not want to live?" Hook is standing in front of Blast Off, looking down at the shuttle with the kind of aloof aristocracy that Blast Off himself is known for. "I can repair you, and I am willing to do so, but only if you cooperate. You are presently in the pits of Kaon, which means that Lord Megatron has or will have seen fit to meet with you and concerning the coming revolution. I can make certain you are properly repaired and detailed to meet him - or you can instead choose to continue to be difficult, and continue to leak out. It's your choice." "I'd ask if you've been under a rock. If you want more then what Hook just told you, I'll tell you later. Course it would be a bad idea if you wandered off," Sixshot says. Still holding the ionic blaster he takes a few steps back, "But for right now, best I stay outta the way. Unless you choose the second option in his question." Blast Off blinks as Hook addresses him, standing there and swaying a bit unsteadily as he does so. He feels... is vulnerable without his weaponry and is just hoping to Primus no one knows of his little profession on the side of assassinating Decepticons. Not that he intends to take those orders anymore, of course. Blast Off is a proud mech, and someone who does not like having to ask for help. Or having to NEED it, for that matter. He glances back at Sixshot, still eyeing his ionic blaster. His trigger finger twitches once reflexively, then he turns to look at Hook. Drawing himself up as proud and straight as he can still manage, he says, "Choices, you say. Of course I want to live. I CHOOSE to... be here." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself of that. "I...*crk* choose my destiny. And I..." He glances about- and this /is/ at least a medical bay... not an execution chamber. He thinks, at least. "...I choose to... be repaired." "Very good," Hook acknowledges curtly. Turning to his medical students he commands, "Get him to the table, get the standard tools and fire up the nanolathes, we'll need a complete chemical analysis of his armor in order to properly replicated it - and so help you do not ignore the spectroscopic displays. If he is so much as one mole short of any of his molecular composition I will make you wash the floors of the pits with brushes fitted to your oral cavities!" The students react immediately, going to pick up Blast Off and help him gently up onto the table. Their movements and body language are a mix of respect, eagerness, and fear. Sixshot watches before moving to one of the few spots with seating. He's still clearly in view as he examines the ionic blaster but currently says nothing on it as he places it across his knees. For now unless he's called elsewhere he chooses to be nearby as the constructicon and his students do their work. Glancing around the rest of the medbay. Blast Off does NOT like being touched, but there's really nothing to be done about that now. So he lets out a very small hufff of protest, more for a matter of principle than anything else. He's lifted onto the table, and casting one last glance towards his ionic blaster sitting in Sixshot's lap, he settles in... still watching Hook warily. But as soon as he finds himself lying down, his weary and scorched systems almost instantly demand recharge... and he fights feeling too relaxed, or too drowsy. He's still among unknowns, and doesn't trust the unknown one iota. "I'm going to put you into stasis lock so you don't twitch and cause me to mis-solder any of your connection points," Hook tells Blast Off matter-of-factly. The Constructicon reaches over to plug a cable into the side of Blast Off's head. "I'll wake you when you're finished." Sixshot shakes his head as the mech seems a bit twitchy, but understandable being down here, "Yeah and prove to me this wasn't a bad idea. Not exactly running a charity down here." He doesn't expect a reply as he glances away from the table. Blast Off glances over at Hook and mutters, "Who *are* you?". But he doesn't protest, instead letting the medic work. Maybe when he wakes up, this will all turn out to be a dream and he'll be lying on that comfortable couch, with a bottle of wine. Mmm... maybe he could have some Orion 3 Orchards when he awakes... yes, that would be nice. Blast Off glances in the direction of Sixshot. "And why did *you* help me?" He may not hear the answer though, as the cable gets plugged in. Blast Off doesn't get his questions answered immediately - he's soon sinking into the darkness of stasis lock. The dreamlike darkness begins to fade, and it's an indeterminate time later. Blast Off will feel that his systems are all now fully operational - he's even been recharged and refueled. Once his optics come online, he'll find his paint and ablative scaling to be meticulously recreated - every last detail is as it should be. His surgeon is sitting in the corner, reading a datazine labelled 'Habsuite Beautiful'. Blast Off wakes up, slowly. The shuttleformer tends to be a heavy sleeper and doesn't stir for awhile. When he comes online again there is a moment of confusion. Wait, this isn't his habsuite? Optics flicker a pale violet in confusion, and then he remembers. He remembers it all. There's a heavy sigh as he wakes not to his his dreams- not his old life, but whatever ...this new one is. That is when he notes that he feels better physically, if not mentally, at least... immensely better. Blast Off glances down to his arms- and the heat shields are there-- intact and gleaming. He shifts his arm- and the arm isn't popped out at some horrible unnatural angle anymore, either. His gaze then turns to Hook as he begins to stir and try to sit up. The shuttle feels a pang of loss again at the sight of the magazine. "...I always enjoyed that series." "This is a recent copy," Hook replies. "Frankly I'm stunned to meet anyone in this hovel that would know the name of this magazine. Half of them can't even read." He sounds quite put off by this. "You weren't forged on Cybertron, were you," the green and purple medic says as an aside. Blast Off blinks. That is both greatly encouraging... and deeply unsettling. "This place..." He looks around the medbay a moment. "...This is where they fight in the pits, isn't it? Not exactly... the most cultured elite, I suppose." He pauses at Hook's next question before answering softly, "...I am a Combaticon." He waits to see if Hook recognizes the name, but has a suspicion that he will. "Ah, a colonist then." That's the most the green medic makes of it, at least vocally. "Yes, I'm afraid we're among the vast unwashracked masses here; they are good, well-intentioned stock. Hardy, eager to serve, eager to fight. You cannot ask for more among the working class." He looks up from his datazine. "And if you're wise, you won't. Trust me, you will only be disappointed if you are looking for Iaconian poetry or the most recent theatrical production from Nova Cronum. This lot is compelled to sink to the level of exhaustport humor." Blast Off again finds himself wishing he'd woken up the right ''way (meaning in his nice, comfortable habsuite back in Vos). He briefly wonders about the excellent library he had there, or that glorious furniture... but there's no way he could return. That place would be watched like a turbo-hawk. The shuttle lets out another small sigh as he pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the table. "Yes." Is all he says. He's in no hurry to talk about his past- including the charge of treason, their betrayal- their imprisonment. To the rest, he comments, "How.... disappointing." He glances up at the green medic. "You do not seem to fit in with the... riffraff. Why would someone like you be here?" "I was decommissioned," he explains coolly. "Three million years of solid work among the engineering function and then to save a few shanix, I was simply fired. No pension, no union dues, no rights - nothing. Simply turned out onto the streets to starve." He sets the magazine down. "My name is Hook. It is a pleasure to meet someone who has a sense of manners and good behavior." Blast Off is actually surprised to hear that... at least ''sort of. He takes a moment to admire Hook's handiwork on himself, flexing an arm, stretching a leg... before he tilts his head curiously to look at the other mech. "Your employer sounds like a fool. Which I want to say surprises me, but..." He looks off into the distance, "The way things are going these days, doesn't." His gaze returns as Hook issues a formal greeting. The shuttleformer responds in kind, easily, nodding his head slightly. "My name is Blast Off, and likewise." Another glance around and, "What does a more... cultured individual do around here? Are we just surrounded by gritty, leaking ruffians... or is there some higher activity - some purpose here?" "Drivetrain was more interested in protecting his own assets than seeing to the wellbeing of the workforce," Hook muses. "There are some of us here that enjoy a more refined existence... we bide our time, carve out a little place here in Kaon where we can enjoy some of the former trappings of our life, but mostly we busy ourselves with work. There is much to be done; after all, there is a war coming, and there will be a need for soldiers who are willing to march, fight and die." "Oh some of us are not all from the work force, just seek a different purpose then what some push. Like myself when I got bored of working Sentinel's Kaon detail," Sixshot says as he finally makes his way back in. He's still holding the Combaticons weapon but doesn't motion to give it back as he just stands there. Arms crossed as the studies the mech. "There are soldiers here. Primal Vanguard, too," Hook notes. "They are not as of yet convinced to join the fight, but they come here and participate in the combat, more than likely for the energon reward for winning." Blast Off tilts his head at the mention of "war". His question is briefly interrupted as Sixshot returns, and once more the shuttleformer's gaze turns to his weapon. He looks like he's about to say something again, but then decides against it and simply nods. "I see. So the Decepticons let you in their ranks, then?" Looking back at Hook, he asks, "War?" "Not going to stop Hook if he's going to tell you the whole. Just know that you won't be leaving for some time after. Not until you meet the one in charge," Sixshots optics shift to the Constructicon then back to the Combaticon as he adds, "Though there are big changes coming, least that is whats planned." "You do possess Autobot identification," Hook says to Blast Off. "For the sake of security we'll be impounding your weapon, but once you speak with Lord Megatron, then you can make your decision. If you choose to stand with us, we will welcome you into our grand struggle, and you can reclaim the function you desire. If you decide to walk away, then you may do so... for now." "When the avalanche starts, after all, it will be too late for the pebbles to vote." Blast Off turns to look at Sixshot, his expression somber and cautious. Though he's not sure he isn't *already* in too deep.... but even so... is that a bad thing? "You'd really just let me walk away?" He doesn't sound like he really believes that. Then he huffs slightly, "Probably *good*. Change is *needed*." The shuttleformer listens to the Constructicon, blinking as he is reminded of his Autobot badge. His plates still twitch and bristle slightly as it is made clear that he and his gun are not going to have a happy reunion any time soon.... the sniper feels restless so unarmed and... helpless. He's not a physical fighter... his only defense- or attack- is that gun. Glancing down at the badge on his chest, he lets out a much louder huffff this time. He stares at the red Autobot face staring back... and then Blast Off reaches down and snatches it away. Bringing it up to gaze "face" to face once more, he mutters, "No. I do not know just what I am.... but I am NOT an Autobot." Fingers clench, and he crushes it in his hand, then tosses it to the ground. Looking up, he adds, "They betrayed me... tried to arrest me. Tried to wipe me from the planet. I am NOT one of them. And I... never really was." "I'll see if Lord Megatron can meet with you as soon as possible," Hook says, standing up. He walks over to Blast Off and hands him the datazine. "No one else here would appreciate it." And for once, the Constructicon smiles. Sixshot nods as he watches, "Now theres the right attitude to have." He just shrugs at the exchange before saying, "You can either find a spot round here to stay or we can find you some suitable quarters till your meeting." Blast Off stays there, feeling a swirl of heady emotion as he stares down at the crumpled Autobot badge. Then Hook walks over and hands him the magazine. He stares at it and looks up at the medic. There's a pause, as he's torn between the reminder of what he likes... and the fact that it suddenly seems out of his reach. He remembers to be polite. "Thank you." He doesn't open it, though, placing it on his lap as if not sure it's... something FOR him any more. He asks, "What Primal Vangaurd? I haven;t seen many for a long time." He WAS one, but he's not sure if Hook knows that. Then Sixshot offers to find a place to stay. He's ... almost afraid to ask, given their surroundings. "...Suitable quarters?" He looks up at the big Con. "Do you live around here?" "Well there are temporary barracks for the gladiators, but I'm not wanting to throw you into the pits. So there are a few other places we can go. But don't expect high or even medium caste, unless Hook knows a place that Kaon Security won't bother," Sixshot says as he ponders. "I am not certain if you remember them... they're known as the Dynobots," Hook explains to Blast Off. Blast Off suppresses a shudder at the thought of sharing space with a bunch of leaking, loud, dripping, smelly gladiators. Of course... he CAN do that if he has to- he used to share quarters with the likes of Brawl, Vortex, and Onslaught, after all. "I'd... rather not." Some of his natural haughtiness shines through, though it is muted. He's a stranger in a strange land, and he knows it. He looks around, feeling miserable. "No... I suppose there isn't much of the High Life to be found here. ...A pity. I... well, I should be able to find something. If nothing else, perhaps I could simply find a high perch somewhere?" Someplace alone and high up and... preferable in orbit. Though he's not sure they'll let him choose *that*... even if his Cloaking Shields were still working. Blast Off's optics flicker with interest at the mention of the Dynobots name. "The Dynobots are *here*?" The shuttleformer sounds surprised. "Fighting in the pits, I take it? ....How the Mighty have fallen...." "There are Decepticon sympathizers in very high castes," Hook suggests. "We may be able to contact them to give you a better place for your talents and... proclivities." "Yeah Grimlock is one of the top champions here. Though course there is one missing. But never ask about Skar if you don't want dents pounded in. Course other times they are silent," Sixshot replies. Shaking his head he says, "If you want that meeting it would be easier that your someplace we know about." Looking to Hook he nods, "Yeah that would work as well." Blast Off seems to perk up slightly at the mention of possibly finding something higher caste. It may be at least somewhat apparent that appealing to his "cultured" tastes brings about a favorable response from the shuttle. However, he's trying to remain aloof and not seem too eager about anything- and it's not like he really feels very enthusiastic about anything right now. "That would be... agreeable." Blast Off turns to address Sixshot, "I see. The Dynobots were formidable fighters... but something ...happened. I think." He talks as someone who knows the Dynobots, at least somewhat, and indeed he did. As fellow Primal Vanguards. Though that was a long, long time ago. "I'll contact our benefactors," says Hook, as he goes to his workstation. He picks up something in his hands and returns to Blast Off's side. A Decepticon badge is in his right hand. "While you are here, it would be prudent to display this somewhere on your personage. It will give you freedom and safety within Kaon's borders. It is the badge of an initiate - not a full member." "Yeah saw the report, least the parts that weren't classified. Gaven't bothered them on it, so just giving a fair warning," Sixshot says with a nod. As Hook hands BO the badge he adds, "Yeah unless someone out there decides to do something stupid you shouldn't have trouble. Course none would be that dumb." Holding up the ionic blaster as he continues, "This will still be on lockdown, unless those that put you up require you to have a weapon. Yet then a different one will be provided or this will be given back till the jobs done. Unless decided by a superior that you are allowed to keep it all times even before the meeting." Blast Off nods to Hook, feeling a little more hopeful than he has since he crash-landed into this mess. Then the Constructicon brings him a purple badge. The shuttleformer stares down at it for a while, not moving. To touch that would be to... possibly touch his destiny, and is he ready for this? His optics dim, then flash a vivid purple as he lifts his hand up and accepts the badge that almost matches his optics- and much of his paint job. He nods again, "...Thank you. I will." He turns to look at Hook and Sixshot. "I have to say, I am... surprised at your... hospitality to a stranger. The Autobots have portrayed you as such ...villainous types, after all." Though Blast Off is still unhappy about his weapon being confiscated. He protests to Sixshot, "I... but what if some hooligans DO try and cause trouble? I should have something to defend myself with..." A wing elevon twitches (and this time makes no odd sounds) as he glances away and back again. The sniper calms a bit, and adds, "Do I get it back if Megatron decides I... can?" "Of course, and if you are underperforming in a vital area, I will upgrade you," Hook camly replies. "Did you think the gladiators here started out with their impressive strength and weaponry? Most of them were so weak, ill-maintained and underfuelled they could barely stand." He stands tall and proud, looking over the surgical facilities. "Yes, it requires my handiwork to get things done properly around here, but such is the burden a genius must bear." It's like Blast Off is looking in his own ego-mirror. "Of course the Autobots would present us as villains, ruffians or terrorists," Hook snorts. "It serves the purpose of the government to paint us as such, because if the truth of their corruption were fully know, they'd lose their power and wealth in a sparkbeat." "As always you put it more elegantly then I ever could, Hook," Sixshot says to the constructicon. Turning his attention to the combaticon he says, "While yes Megatron would agree to let you have it back. But I can also see to let you have a temporary weapon other then this while your here. As to answer your question before you went under, I did this cause its what my sensei would have me do. Even on my current path, can't seem to not run into others that need help." Blast Off perks up again. "Upgrades?" He can't quite help but lean in slightly. "So it IS possible to get... weapons upgrades here? I mean, if one became a Decepticon?" Oh how Blast Off would like that. At the mention of genius, he seems to recognize the fellow ego, and smirks a bit- though his faceplate hides that. "Well... I am fortunate to have fallen into your hands, then." The smirk fades, though, at the mention of corruption. "Yes, I've seen that corruption first hand.... and I'm living *despite* their best efforts to wipe me away. I was tougher than they thought." He nearly growls that, then looks to Sixshot. There's a twich at the mention of "needing help", but he decides to let that go. he *did* need help, like it or not. "Your sensei? Who is that?" Hook listens to the conversation and smirks wryly at Blast Off's eagerness to have weapons. There's a hint of panic about the shuttle when he doesn't have his firearms, and the constructicon makes a note of it. He assumes it to simply be the byproduct of being a military frametype, but there may be underlying phobias. "Weapon upgrades, frame improvements... maybe even more. We have more than just engineers and medics among our numbers. Perhaps you remember Senator Shockwave...?" "He 'was' Yoketron," Sixshot clenches his free hand as he says this. His faceplate opens revealing a scowl but the multichanger calms down. Looking to Blast Off he says, "Pardon that, its been a while but part of me hasn't gotten over his death. Even if I didn't witness it. But I see no reason to avenge it as I do not even know who did it." He goes silent as Hook mentions Shockwave. Blast Off knows all too well that he's pretty much slag outta luck without his weapons. This is why he's nervous without a gun in his hand. Yes, his military hardwiring calls to him for combat-readiness, too, but... mostly he knows he's vulnerable right now. He CAN at least fly and attempt escape, but has no shot in a fight... without a *shot* in his arsenal. Of course, he's loathe to admit how weak he really is physically, so he just focuses on that blaster. But even that's out of reach right now. But Hook's words do... hook him, and listens intently. There is a slight look of surprise at the end. "Senator Shockwave? Didn't he disappear?" Sixshot's use of the word "was" gains the shuttle's attention, and he turns to look at the big Con. He's silent a moment. "I ...see. Apologies, I did not mean to stir up unpleasant memories. He must have been a good teacher, then." "Senator Shockwave is a victim of the Institute. He.... is no longer the mech he once was. Still as brilliant, but now, bereft of emotion," Hook explains. "Empurata as well." He's quiet after saying it. It bothers him deeply, and it shows. "Its alright, the past can't always be forgotten," Sixshot replies but goes back to his since and shudder as Hook mentions 'Empurata'. Finally he says, "Wish I never asked what that was, once." "Empurata?" Blast Off leans forward, "...But he's a Senator! He's... one of THEM. You're telling me they're doing this kind of thing to their *own* members now?" If this is true, things may be even worse than he thought, and he already thought they were terrible. He glances to Sixshot. "If they're doing that... things have truly gotten out of hand." "Empurata and cerebral re-engineering," Hook corrects. "He no longer has emotional capacity." "He is unbothered with it," the engineer continues. "But then again, when one no longer feels emotion, one is not bothered by -anything-. He says it's given him greater clarity for his research. The last I was aware, he was busy attempting to ... well. Take some insecticons and make a -combiner- out of them. "So that project wasn't a rumor. While think for a moment Blast Off, before what happened to him, Shockwave's views were certainly different then a majority of the Senate as I understand," Shxshot says. He looks between the two saying, "Going to least grab you a pistol and maybe a knife from the armory. Unless you have a preference, other then this." Blast Off stares in horror, feeling his mouth almost going dry. Not only at the horror of what happened to Shockwave, but the sudden realization that that may be the sort of fate he just narrowly avoided himself. He'll never know- nor does he ever want to. After a time, he finds some words there again. "... I... guess not." There's a pause and he tilts his head. "Combiner? What's that? One of those... giant robots made up of smaller ones?" (Oh the irony.) "That's not possible, is it?" He looks to Sixshot and nods. "That is true... perhaps that is why. They have fallen, haven't they? "There's a pause and he adds, "I.. yes. A pistol would do. Some sort of firearm. Preferably *sighted in* correctly." He still manages to find time to expect ONLY the BEST for himself. "Legend has it that it happened once before, but the resulting combined robot went insane," Hook recounts, tapping his chin. "What was it... ah yes. Monstructor. I believe that's why Shockwave is working with lesser creatures first." "That it has, course Sentinel has taken full charge now as Prime, so things may just be worse. Least if he sticks by his personal data log," Sixshot states before nodding, "I'll see what I can do." He heads back out to the armory adding, "Yeah but still a menace when they go feral. Course who knows what that Monstructor was like, if the Legend is true." Blast Off nods, thinking back at what he remembers about combiners... which isn;t much. Never sounded like a pleasant proposition to HIM... having to *merge* with a bunch of other mechs... UGH. No thanks. He shakes his head, then lifts it. "Is he here?" The mention of "lesser creatures" brings back a brief thought to Kickback, and he wonders what happened to that Insecticon... but that seems a world away now. His lab, his old life, all of it. Blast Off stifles a sigh- and a sudden urge to return to the stars. Everything he just went through be /slagged/. "Lesser creatures?" He wonders if the Decepticons are clinging to the same caste systems as the Autobots- and isn't sure if that's good or bad. Blast Off nods to Sixshot. "I doubt Sentinel is any better than the rest of them. I think it's all corrupt at the top now." "He's a murderer," Hook says flatly. "He's moved into the fortress at the edge of Kaon - Kolkular. He's gathering an army to march into this polity and slaughter every last low-caste he can find." It doesn't take long for Sixshot to return, though minus Blast Off's weapon. Walking over to the combaticon he hands a scoped pistol and a combat knife in their magnetic sheathes or whatever some use to store weapons, "Now don't make me regret giving you these." Looking to Hook he nods, "Things are really starting to boil into molten slag." Blast Off looks back to Hook. "Is this the war of which you spoke earlier?" Sixshot's return *without* his weapon is once more noted with displeasure, but there's not much to say. He *is* happier being handed the weapons he is- it's something at least. He accepts them, turning to look them over with a critical optic. He takes a moment to check the scope- it's a decent make, though nothing special. *siiigh*. He tries not looking *too* ungrateful though, knowing he's going well to get anything. "...I... will not." He nods a thanks. "Yes, among other things," Hook notes. "I'll let Lord Megatron give you the details." He begins to walk to the door. "Until then, feel free to move about, ask questions, talk to the others. For once in your life... enjoy the privilege of choice." "Yeah you don't need me showing you around anymore, unless you ask," Sixshot says as he remains focused on Blast Off, "You'll most likely get a call and recieve the lodgings Hook pulled for you soon. But now look do as you like." Blast Off nods to Hook, "I... will." There's that word "choice" again. He likes it. The shuttle nods to Sixshot as well. He hesitates saying thank you, as irked as he remains about his ionic blaster, but then decides politeness might get him further right now. "...Thank you, as well." Hook turns and smiles pleasantly. "You're welcome."